Chapter One

Toa Onewa saw the ground rushing up toward him far too fast. Instinctively, he left his body go loose as he prepared for impact. He hit the muddy coastline of Le-Metru hard, skidding across the slick beach before finally coming to a stop

“Well, that… stank,” said the Toa of Stone.

A figure suddenly rose from the muck, its silhouette outlined against the pale light of the moon. Its abrupt appearance made Onewa jump. Only then did the figure scrape away a coating of seaweed and mud to reveal the mask of Nuju, Toa Metru of Ice.

“It would appear there was an error in our transport,” he said. “Pilot error.”

Toa Matau’s head burst from the rubble between Onewa and Nuju. He had been steering their boat, the Lhikan II, when it was caught in a storm and wrecked off the shore of Le-Metru. “Hey, I was order-taking,” he said, annoyed. “Vakama was the one order-giving.”

“No need to be critical, Matau.”

The three Toa turned to see Nokama emerging from the surf. In her natural element, she was quite a striking figure. “Regardless of how gracefully, we made it here,” she said softly.

“Yeah, Matau replied, still irritated. “Well… whatever.” Then, realizing he was still pinned, he added, “Uh, could somebody dig me up?”

Before the other Toa could react, an earth-shock drill cleared away the rubble around Matau. A black-armored hand grabbed the Toa of Air and pulled him free. Matau looked up at the mask of Whenua and said, “Thanks.”

The Toa of Earth shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

The five Toa stood together, still a bit shaken from their experience. None of them brought up the fact that Vakama was missing, fearing that perhaps he was not just absent, but dead. Their unspoken questions were answered by his voice, booming out from behind them.

“Are we going to stand around all night?” demanded the Toa of Fire. “Or are we going to rescue the Matoran?”

Matau walked slowly through Le-Metru, surrounded by his fellow Toa but feeling very much alone. Gone were the sounds of Matoran at work and play, replaced by the cries of strange Rahi. All around them were buildings damaged by the quake, places Matau had visited countless times when he was a Matoran. This city no longer felt like home but rather a place out of a nightmare.

The Toa had already caught glimpses of some of Metru Nui’s newest inhabitants, vicious spiderlike creatures that seemed to be hunting down anything that moved. Now as they traveled through a city shrouded in webs and fog, Matau struggled to keep his spirits up.

“What’s with all the fog?” he asked for the fourth time in as many minutes. “It’s not exactly encouraging my Toa-hero spirit.”

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. In the distance, the skyline of Metru Nui had become visible through the mist. The lights of the city were largely extinguished. Translucent webs glowed in the moonlight, swaying in the harsh breeze. The next moment, a herd of massive beasts stampeded across the Toa’s path and vanished into the darkness.

“Whoa,” said Matau. “What was that?”

“The Archives must have been breached,” Whenua answered. His tone of voice was enough to say that this was a very bad thing.

“What did you have in there?” asked Onewa. He knew the answer, of course, but Po-Matoran traditionally liked to pretend that the Archives either didn’t exist or were too unimportant to worry about.

“Everything,” Whenua replied, too worried to be annoyed at his friend. “Most of it dangerous.”

“Rahi,” Vakama added, as if somehow the others had forgotten what the Archives had been created to contain.

Whenua began to recite the opening lines of the Archives tour he had given a hundred times as a Matoran. “The Onu-Metru Archives house a specimen of every Rahi beast every discovered –”

His speech was cut off by a growl coming from somewhere off in the shadows.

“At least, it used to,” he finished.

A gust of wind blew away the fog for a moment, revealing an Archives annex entrance. The gateway was split open and the entire structure covered in webbing. Then the fog closed in, hiding the disturbing sight once more.

“And the webs?” asked Vakama.

“Visorak. Nasty creatures,” replied Whenua. He knew why Vakama was asking. The Toa Metru of Earth had only recently recalled having seen something about the Visorak in the Archives, but he had remembered too late to keep the Toa from being cornered by the creatures. They had barely escaped that trap, and Vakama was still upset that Whenua had not warned them sooner.

“Coming from you, that… well, it’s not good,” said Onewa.

“I’ve never heard of such creatures,” said Nokama.

“Most haven’t,” Whenua explained, glancing at Vakama. “They’re not from around here… originally.”

“Well, there goes the old neighborhood,” Matau muttered.

Nokama looked at her friends. She could not recall ever seeing them looking so uncertain in their course of action. All except Vakama, of course, who had been impatient to keep moving since they arrived back in the city. “An unexpected and unwelcome turn of events,” she agreed. “But what does it change?”

“Nothing,” Vakama snapped. “We go to the Coliseum. We rescue the Matoran. We leave.”

“Or get pulverized,” Whenua interjected.

No one spoke for a moment. Then Nuju said quietly, “It is a possibility.”

“We’ve faced down Makuta and won – I really doubt a few crusty relics are going to give us much trouble,” said Vakama. “Agreed?”

The others considered his words and, one by one, nodded. What choice did they have, after all? Turning back would mean dooming the Matoran to the mercies of the Visorak, and privately they all doubted the Visorak had any mercy in their hearts.

“All right,” said Vakama. “Follow me.”

The Toa of Fire had taken only a single step when a spinning wheel of energy flew out of the darkness and struck him square in the back. Instantly, a numbness flooded his limbs, leaving him unable to move. Five more appeared in rapid succession to strike down each of the Toa Metru in turn.

“Can’t… move,” said Vakama.

Whenua, unable to maintain his balance, began to topple forward. “Can’t stop!”

“This is gonna hurt,” said Matau.

The Toa of Earth fell, knocking over the others. They lay in a heap on the ground, Vakama at the bottom. “Is everyone okay?” asked the Toa of Fire.

“Paralyzed,” replied Nuju. “But otherwise unharmed.”

“We’re right behind you, Vakama,” said Matau, mockingly. “Literally.”

“Bickering won’t get us out of this, Matau,” admonished Nokama.

“No, but think-talking before charging straight into a trap might have!”

“If you have something to say, say it,” snapped Vakama.

“Forget it,” grumbled Matau. “I’ve got bigger problems.”

Noises came from out of the darkness, scratching, scuttling noises that sent chills through the Toa. It sounded like a legion on the march, coming to surround the helpless heroes.

“What’s that?” whispered Onewa.

“We’ll soon find out,” Nuju replied.

Ill-defined shapes in the mist moved closer and closer, finally emerging from the fog. Keelerak, the green-hued breed of Visorak spider, crawled into the clearing, their mandibles gnashing. Launchers mounted on their backs held the spinning wheels of energy. Everything about them was revolting, as if they sent out some psychic poison that churned up every dark emotion in those who saw them.

Unable to move his head to see them clearly, Matau said, “Let me guess – Visorak?”

“Yes,” answered Whenua. “In their tongue, ‘the poisonous scourge.’”

“Do they even have tongues?” asked Onewa. “All I see are teeth!”

Seeing that the Toa were no longer any threat, the Keelerak began to close in. Nokama wanted to scream as their very presence filled her with an emotion beyond horror. Instead, she glanced down at the Toa of Fire. “Vakama, what do we do?”

But Vakama had no answer. All he could think of was that he had led his team into a situation they could not think or fight their way out of. His failure meant that not only they, but all the Matoran trapped beneath the Coliseum, were doomed.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know.”